


Just Coffee

by PickledOnions



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fandot Creativity, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6365728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickledOnions/pseuds/PickledOnions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin receives an unexpected invitation via the ATC channel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Martin had to focus hard to stop his legs from shaking like they always did when he was anxious (like he always was) and paid no attention to whatever comment Douglas was making.  
Coffee. It was just coffee. No harm in that. Mates went for coffee all the time. Didn't they?  
He was sure they did.  
After all, it wasn't like Karl thought of him as anything other than a mate.  
Was it?  
It wasn't as if he could /ask/- then, if he was wrong, he'd look like an idiot, and if he was not-wrong, he'd look like an idiot. And he especially couldn't ask here, now, over the intercom with Douglas sitting /right there/. God, it wasn't as if Karl could've- should've- said anything in the first place!  
Was Karl even gay?  
Was /Martin/ even gay?  
He knew how much he hated unprofessional chat over the comms- God, the cheek of it! He should've just told him off for airspeak regulations and hung up.  
He hadn't, though.  
What he had said was more along the lines of 'I- You- Wh- D- I- Um- Y- Yes, th-that sounds nice.'  
So much for not looking like an idiot.  
And now Douglas was saying something else, and he really should've been listening in case it was something about the plane, but it wasn't, not by the look on his big smug face, it was some... /remark/. Which he had no right to make, even if- especially if-  
But it wasn't! It was just coffee.  
Even so, when Martin got home, he ironed his nicest shirt, ready for /just coffee/.  
(Checking first, of course, that it didn't smell of bacon.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl makes an unexpected invitation via the ATC channel.

"...and, Captain Crieff, after you land, presuming you survive, that is, would you like to meet me for coffee?"

Karl felt like everyone in the tower could hear his heart thumping. He kept his tone casual, though his fingers drummed against the desk. He bit his lip as Martin stammered a reply.

"I- You- Wh- D- I- Um- Y- Yes, th-that sounds nice."

He grinned, half-stunned. He hadn't expected that to work. Joel, on the comm next to him, snickered.

"Great. See you at the airfield tomorrow. Is ten good?"

Again his tone was smooth, even. That was some fortunate ability of his: sounding calm even in panic. It helped with being an air traffic controller.

Captain Crieff- Martin, he corrected himself, agreed. Apparently, he did not possess the same ability. Karl already knew that, of course, though the idea of Martin nervous to see him triggered another grin. It was so very cute when he tripped over his words like that.

Another plane came in, and he switched channels, instantly back to work. He couldn't take his mind off it all day, though.

He had a date with Martin Crieff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First draft of this chapter, feedback appreciated. Might continue.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin meets Karl for... just coffee?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I actually wrote it, to my surprise! Well, the start of it, anyway. Here's this. As always, comments would be fantastic!

1000 hours. The airfield. 

Martin bounced on his heels. He'd met Karl just often enough to recognise him, but most of their interactions were professional, or fleeting.

He didn't know why he was so nervous.

He did. He was going on a... something. He hadn't been on anything that could even be mistaken for a date in... well. Some time. Not that this was a date, unless it was.

He checked his watch again. 1001. Where was he?  
He looked around. Perhaps he'd meant to meet him at the other end of the airfield, or just outside, or...

He looked down at himself. Jacket, nice shirt, jeans. Off-brand converse. Tatty old coat, but it was cold, and he didn't have anything nicer. That was fine, wasn't it? It was fine for a coffee with a mate. Was it fine for a date? Maybe he should've done something with his hair.

1005\. Maybe he wasn't coming. Martin wouldn't be surprised. It had happened before. But- was that him? Yes. Martin breathed a sigh of relief, and waved. 

Karl smiled and walked over. He looked nice. Knitted cardigan, black jeans, boots. 

"Hi." said Karl.

"Hi." said Martin, heart racing.

-

Karl knew he was late. He knew Martin knew he was late. It wouldn't've bothered him, five minutes, except that it was Martin.

Martin would've noticed, worried, counted every second. He probably would've been there early, knowing him. He could see the anxiety on his face, deeply embedded over the years, with every panic rooted around his eyes and in his receding hairline.

Despite this, he was good-looking. At least, Karl thought so. 

He took Martin's arm. They went through the rituals of small talk; the 'how are you's, the 'nothing much'es, the 'quite cold for this time of year's and so.  
Martin started heading to the airfield café, but Karl stopped him.

"Oh- I thought-"

"Yeah, well, we could go there, or we could have nice coffee." he replied, and winked. Perhaps the wink was too much.

He knew a coffee shop not far away, where he sometimes stopped on his way to work. It wasn't as if it was a secret only he was in on- but it was relatively quiet, and, as he said, had nice coffee.

-

Nice coffee. Martin felt the flat wallet in his pocket and bit his lip. Maybe he could make his soap last a little longer, or take his tea black this week, or- stop it, Martin, you don't do your budgeting on a date!

And this was a date, he was almost certain of it now. Karl had shaved, and smelled of perfume and fresh linen, and he had winked at him. That had to mean something, didn't it?

He hadn't been on a date with a man since his twenties. Then, it could still be passed off as experimenting.

Trouble was, he never got conclusive results.

Now he was thirty-six, and he still didn't know if he was- well, anything, and here he was with Karl, who'd obviously assumed he was- something- and he was, what? Leading him on? He couldn't go through with this, it was impossible, it was unfair, it was inappropriate, it was- it was- it-

Breathe.

Breathe.


End file.
